


Where you don't see me

by rymden



Series: Ceaseless watcher, turn your gaze away from these lovers [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (martin is the archivist), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Canon Asexual Character, Come Eating, Hair-pulling, M/M, Masturbation, Trans Character, Vaginal Fingering, jon is trans and gnc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26109058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rymden/pseuds/rymden
Summary: Martin, he knows for a fact, could pin him to the wall or lift him onto a desk without breaking a sweat, and his hands– bigger than his own, softer too– would cover so much of him if he were to place them on Jon’s body.Or, in which Jon can't stop thinking about Martin during work and has to take a "break".
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Ceaseless watcher, turn your gaze away from these lovers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895701
Comments: 10
Kudos: 200





	Where you don't see me

**Author's Note:**

> words for jon vary in this and include: dick, cock, cunt, clit etc

Jon doesn’t really get _affected_ by other people. This is not a new revelation by any means, but rather it’s something he’d settled on long ago along with the realisation that he was asexual. There is no sexual attraction there, but every now and then he sees a person who sticks in his mind; though it happens rarely and when it does it’s usually silent appreciation without action, save for a few exceptions that come to mind.

That’s why, when he’s transferred to the archives, it catches him off guard with how easily affected he is with Martin around. Martin, with broad shoulders and a round face, thick arms that could easily take Jon’s weight. It’s never the entirety of a person that arouses him. Instead he fixates on the implications of what they could do, and watching Martin carry a stack of boxes Jon can personally attest to being very heavy, it’s no wonder he reacts the way he does. 

Martin, he knows for a fact, could pin him to the wall or lift him onto a desk without breaking a sweat, and his hands– bigger than his own, softer too– would cover so much of him if he were to place them on Jon’s body. It’s a frustrating thing to be so enamoured with his boss. It’s not even just in a sexual sense. Martin has the loveliest smile and a laugh that sounds like it’s what makes the flowers bloom in the spring, if he’s allowed to be sentimental about it, and that’s even worse.

All of this adds up to arousal that burns hot in his stomach, accompanied by this _infatuation_ he has with the man. Jon scrunches his nose just thinking about it. Developing romantic feelings in a workplace environment, especially one so closely knit, is extremely unprofessional of him.

This is also why he finds himself squirming in his chair, pressing his thighs together to find some sort of relief, from the mere sight of Martin leaning over Sasha’s desk to go over a statement with her. Watching him twirl the pen in his hand, occasionally bringing it up to his mouth to tap it against his lips, Jon finds it impossible to focus properly on his own work. His mind wanders, as it is prone to do when it’s nearning lunch, but rather than going over his grocery shopping list he can’t keep his mind from picturing Martin’s lips wrapped around his cock. Biting his lip to distract himself from the image, he catches Martin glancing in his direction. It’s most likely a trick of the light, Jon tells himself, but he swears his face is flushed.

The moment passes quickly as Sasha thankfully asks him something concerning the statement that redirects his attention.

Jon sighs quietly, dragging a hand down his face. He’s fully aware of how hopeless he is. Peering down at the dreadful statement on his desk– a man who is certain someone keeps entering his dreams, appearing only when they’re of a… racy nature. It’s clearly someone’s idea of a joke and even if the statement won’t record digitally he refuses to believe such a tale to be true.

“Jon?” he’s immediately snapped out of his thoughts by a voice calling his name. Embarrassed at having visibly spaced out, he clears his throat and lifts his eyes to seek the source. The pair on the opposite side of the room have both turned to him, looking at him expectantly.

He awkwardly clears his throat again. “Yes, sorry. I was, er, trying to make sense of this statement here,” he says, making a sweeping gesture at his desk. Martin gives him an understanding nod.

“That’s alright. We were just asking if you wanted to go out for lunch with us in half an hour. Tim should be back soon too.” pausing, his tongue darts out to wet his lips and Jon being _Jon,_ he immediately backtracks to the fantasy of Martin between his legs.

Something must cross his face because Martin’s eyebrows shoot up before he quickly averts his eyes.

Frustrated with his lack of a poker face, Jon shakes his head slightly as if it would help rid him of his thoughts, “No, I, ah, have a meeting with a close friend of a statement giver in about an hour. Got some details that need verifying.” he doesn’t lie exactly, because he is seeing them. It’s just a visit the other party isn’t aware of yet. “I was going to go ahead and eat now, actually,” he finishes lamely.

“O-oh, of course! It’s a shame but it can’t be h-helped.” Martin stutters while Sasha snickers behind her hand. Jon notices the flush is back, more prominent than earlier. He frowns.

“We’ll go together next time. It’s fine, Jon.” Sasha cuts in, smiling. There’s something smug about her as she glances at Martin. “He’ll nag you about skipping lunch if you don’t. Has to make sure you’re eating properly and all that.”

“ _Sasha!_ ” he hisses at her, face cherry-red. Jon finds it very endearing, and would find it even more so if he didn’t get the sour feeling that there was more to the story. Did they gossip behind his back? That in itself was, well, not exactly _fine_ , but to be expected. Such things couldn’t really be avoided at a workplace like this and he trusts Martin not to be mean. It’s the fact that they seem close enough to be doing so that stings a little.

Rising to his feet, he’s reminded of just how turned on he is and is stricken by the realisation that it won’t go away unless he does something about it. Actually, the idea of getting off right now sounds great, he thinks, and hopes his cheeks don’t appear as warm as they feel. It’s not as if he truly has lunch with him so he does have an hour to spare.

“Next time,” Jon agrees awkwardly. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye!” Sasha calls to his back as he opens the door and steps out. Before he can close it he hears Martin murmur something to her, irritation apparent in his tone. Deciding it isn’t any of his business no matter how much he wants it to be, he quickly makes his leave and heads for the destination he has in mind.

The place that would provide the most privacy right now is the filing room with the cot, put there for any all-nighters the staff might pull. Martin had looked on disapprovingly when he’d first brought it up but Elias had backed Jon, insisting as head archivist Martin might need it for whatever reason.

It’s not the first time he goes there with his intended activities in mind, nor is he the only one who does, but he figures it’s safe enough even if two out of three colleagues are at the institute. No one really uses it during this time of day.

Before he enters the room, he’s sure to look out for any people in the hallway that might see him. When the coast is clear he slips inside. The room is cool, intended to keep humidity out. The drop in temperature feels good on his warm skin– there’s a certain thrill of touching himself there that always manages to work him up. The prospect of being walked in on is definitely a factor, and more than once has he fantasised about being caught by Martin.

Legs nearly shaking with anticipation, he climbs onto the worn mattress. He’s glad he chose to wear a skirt today, not a fan of the hassle of removing trousers and then putting them back on. It’s much easier to simply lift it up. 

He sits with his back against the wall, legs falling open. The skirt is bunched at his hips and with its length he finds it easier to hold the hem of it between his teeth– that way he won’t get any bodily fluids other than spit on it.

Leaning back a little more, he slips his hand underneath his underwear, pulling it down to sit just above his knees. His other hand traces his slit with his fingertips, dipping in just a little. He’s so wet, clit peeking through his folds, already at attention. He rubs the tip with his thumb. The sensation sends electricity up his spine. Rubbing it slowly for a minute, he finally slips his finger in further, stroking down to his entrance. He has to bite back a moan at it.

He circles the rim, not quite pushing in just yet, simply tracing the muscle there instead, feeling himself twitch as he does. In his mind, it’s Martin touching him, teasing him. Despite his sweet personality, Jon doesn’t believe for a second he isn’t domineering in the bedroom. That side of him, less soft and more demanding, comes out occasionally when he’s stressed and every time Jon secretly loves it. He wants that tone used on him, asking him to do what he says. It drives him wild. Usually he never thinks of people like this, but Martin has become a bit of an exception. Last time he had someone on his mind like this was back in University with Georgie, so he’s sure it must be because of this infatuation of his.

Pushing a finger inside, determined to get on with this, and he’s, once again, glad he chose a skirt this morning. Having something in his mouth helps muffling the whimper he lets out. He thrusts his finger in and out slowly, taking his time to feel it. It doesn’t take long to add another alongside it, fucking him with two of his fingers.

God, he’s so wet. He might even stain the sheets again if he keeps this up. The thought is thrilling, to say at the least, leaving an invisible mark behind. His unoccupied hand drifts to his clit, fondling it between his fingers. He moans around the fabric in his mouth. Head lolling back against the wall, his eyes slip shut. Martin’s fingers are much thicker than his own, he knows, and he badly wants them inside him. He slips in his ring finger to add to the thought. Three of his fingers are about two of Martin’s, maybe a little less. He’d love to have Martin fuck him with them, or he could grind down on them while Martin watches, telling him how good he is being.

_“Oh, my boy. My good boy. Look at you, you’re doing so great. Does it feel good?”_

Logically, he can’t imagine Martin speaking to him like this, praising him in a slightly condescending tone, but it’s just too hot not to think about. If he was being good enough, maybe Martin would let him come just like that, from his words and grinding down on his hand alone. Then he’d ask Martin to fuck him– beg, even, to be filled.

“Fuck,” he pants out loud. The skirt’s hemline is soaked with his saliva.

He fucks himself faster, rubbing his dick in time with the trusts. The dual sensation has him nearing his peak, every nerve ending on fire. Arching his back, he brushes a sweet spot inside of himself. Doing it once, twice more, he comes, cunt gushing. It’s a bit of a pain to clean up afterwards, but he does love when he manages to squirt.

He moves his fingers inside him a little more, wigging them and thrusting slowly, until he tips over into overstimulation. When his thighs begin to quiver he finally pulls out. The squelching noise as he does echoes in the near silent room. Feeling spent, he takes a moment to lie there, boneless and buzzing with his orgasm.

He does feel guilty over thinking about his boss doing this, but it’s worth it the stuttering and blushing that will follow whenever Martin looks in his direction for the rest of the day. At least he doesn’t know, so it doesn’t matter all that much to Jon.

If he knew, that would be so much worse.

When his thighs stop trembling, he manages to pull himself upright, letting the skirt fall from his mouth to cover him. The cum’s mostly dried now and he knows he’ll have to visit the bathroom to clean himself off quickly before returning to their office. The rest of the archive staff has probably left for lunch already, so he doesn’t have to worry about facing anyone just yet.

He winces as he pulls his underwear up again, feeling the slick acutely as he does. Before he leaves, he throws a glance over his shoulder at the wet patch on the cot, satisfaction pooling in his stomach.

The bathroom is thankfully empty. Wetting a paper towel in the sink, he sighs. He'd been messier than he'd thought, getting cum on the insides of his thighs too, and it was definitely something he felt with every step he took. He’s about to escape into a stall when the door opens. Freezing, Jon can only look on in horror as someone enters.

“What are you doing?” Tim asks, eyebrow raised, eyeing the paper towel in his hand. Jon doesn't have time to reply before realisation crosses his face. “Oh! Did you make use of the cot?”

Jon nods, bashful. They’d been there together enough times for Tim to recognise that Jon likes to wash off afterwards.

“Nice,” Tim grins, clearly amused at having caught him. “Was actually thinking of heading there myself but Sasha’s out for lunch.”

Forcing his body to relax, he faces Tim. “Yeah, with Martin.” he grumbles.

Laughing, Tim shakes his head slightly, “You’re adorable, Jon, you know that?”

Choosing to ignore this, he raises an eyebrow, pinning Tim with a stare. “Why aren’t you with them?”

“Told Sasha I’ve got too much work and that I’ll just eat at my desk. She said I’m starting to sound like you.” he shrugs.

Jon frowns. “Hm. I see.” he glances inside the stall to his left, desperate to get back to work. He has to be gone by the time the two of them return. “If you don’t mind I need to, ah…” he trails off.

“I can help if you’d like,”

Jon pauses. It’s a simple offer– one he could stand to accept, still horny and quite frankly, in need of another person’s touch to satisfy that. “... Yes. Thank you,” he breathes. Tim, the smug bastard, smiles cockily at him.

“Lovely,” he steps close, leaning down to capture Jon’s lips in a kiss. Placing a hand on his hip, Tim backs him into the stall and kicks the door shut. He pushes Jon against the wall, who inhales sharply as his back makes contact with it and wraps his arms around Tim’s shoulders, pulling him close. A leg finds its way between his thighs and it takes an effort not to grind down on it.

“ _Tim_ ,” He pants into his mouth. Tim takes the opportunity and bites down gently on his bottom lip, tugging lightly on it. It earns a whine and hips rolling against his. His hand strokes up and down Jon’s side carefully, thumb tracing the edge of his binder through his skirt, before gliding gently across the fabric to palm him through his skirt. Jon pushes his cunt into Tim’s hand impatiently. “Hurry up,” he groans.

“Normally that would’ve made me take longer but I do admit we’re on a bit on a schedule so I’ll get a move on. Next time though,” he murmurs into Jon’s cheek, nosing in his hair. “I won’t be as nice.”

“Duly noted,” Jon says, aiming for dry but it comes out whiny, and he flushes deeper. Tim seems to enjoy taking him apart like this and true to his word, would’ve taken his sweet time if they had more of it. Tim had a way with his mouth not even the Martin in his fantasy could replicate and that’s not _all_ it was good for.

“Great,” he presses kisses to his neck, a straight trail down to his collar, where he pauses. Instead of unbuttoning it like Jon thinks he’s going to, he sinks to his knees. The stall is fairly narrow so Jon spreads his legs immediately to make room for him. “Hold this up for me?” Tim asks, meeting his eyes as he lifts up the skirt.

Nodding frantically, Jon grasps it and holds the fabric against his chest. Tim makes good on his promise to fast and doesn’t waste more than a moment to take in the sight of him, spread open and still messy from his earlier session, before he dives in. His hands rest on either thigh, parting them a little more as he licks a stripe up Jon’s inner thigh.

“Mmmh,” Tim hums, lapping at a spot of dried cum. When it doesn’t dissolve right away, he drags his teeth along the skin to catch all of it, making Jon jerk. He moans, too loudly to be safe in a public space like this, so he shoves a bit of the skirt in his mouth again. The other hand rests in Tim’s hair, holding on to it. At one particularly tough stain, Tim sucks on the skin, effectively leaving a bruise in his wake. He’s sure to run his tongue over it as an apology before moving on.

He’s efficient, not lingering on any part of Jon for more than a minute, but whenever he switches thigh he purposely avoids Jon’s pussy. He’s absolutely soaked, cock aching.

“Touch me,” Jon begs around his knuckles, not caring how desperate he sounds at this point,

“Can’t. I’m a bit preoccupied.” Tim replies smugly. “Say, why don’t you work that pretty little dick of yours yourself while I get you clean?”

The suggestion sends a spike of heat through his body and Jon feels himself twitch. Turns out, touching himself while Tim licks around his cunt is a major turn on. His hand slips from Tim’s hair, settling between his legs. He has to spread them a little more to properly fit his hand and Tim’s head there and ends up having to further lean back onto the wall. His legs are starting to hurt from the strain, but he knows he won’t last too long like this.

His fingers find his clit peeking through the folds and he sighs with relief as he brushes against it. Tim squirms on his spot on the floor, visibly affected by Jon. That thought alone sends another spark of arousal through him. He fondles his cock between his fingers, stroking the little length. It’s only a few centimeters, smaller than he’d seen on other people on hormones, but it’s enough to keep between his thumb and index finger.

Tucking his head against his chest to watch Tim’s mouth on him, he notices his hand is down his slacks, touching himself as he bites down gently on the front of his thigh. The sensation pulls a sound from Jon’s lips. Tim’s hips stutter at it, a moan of his own escaping him.

“I’m close,” he announces into his skin, slick with saliva.

“Me too,” Jon exhales into the air, fingers picking up speed a little. 

“Pull my hair, please,” Tim swallows, breath hitching. Jon obliges wordlessly, aware of just how much Tim likes having his hair touched. He grasps the silky strand, tugging a little, before pulling harshly, enough to draw Tim’s face away from his legs.

“ _Ah,_ fuck!” Tim groans, head tipped back, eyes screwed shut. His shoulder jerks as he grinds down on his hand. Jon matches his speed and feels himself nearing his climax. Tim surges forward, pulling his own hair as he does, and tongues the bit of Jon’s clit that isn’t covered by his fingers. A few more licks, tip of the tongue rubbing at it like it’s the sweetest he’s ever had, Jon comes. Hips twitching, he tightens the grip in Tim’s hair.

He hears Tim let out a groan, mouth falling open, as he too reaches his peak. When he regains his bearings, Jon loosens his iron grip, instead petting the back of his head gently. Tim leans into the touch, face slack with pleasure. He looks beautiful like this. Jon’s mind guiltily wonders what Martin’s post-sex expression looks like– imagines him biting his lip, blush creeping up from his chest to colour his entire face, curls falling in his eyes as he peers up at Jon after eating him out.

He’s got it bad. So, so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> so! this is part one of my archivist martin au i won't shut up about on twitter (@rymdens i still have no idea how to link on ao3)
> 
> the next part will feature more martin and his beholding powers i promise


End file.
